Do you know who I am?

Anyone who lives in or spends anytime in Greece and understands the language will have seen at one time or another, possibly often, an irate person demanding of one or many around him 'Do you know who I am?'; this is not an existential question, born from uncertainty and angst, but a ludicrous assertion of perceived status.

My first response to the question would be 'and who might yourself be, then?', closely followed by 'well if you don't know, I'm not sure I could shed light on the matter...'; I have now reached my final offering, along the lines of 'if you need to ask, mate, you are of no account, no account at all'.

Though the ancient Greeks invented the concept of Aristocracy (or perhaps just gave an existing practice a name, write in dear reader and tell me if you have facts on this to impart), the rule of the best, the excellent - not, it should be noted, creating a hereditary privilege based on perceived 'breeding', as degraded in the West later - modern Greece has singularly failed to live up to it. Of course modern Greece is a young country not even two hundred years old, so the social structure is not sufficiently developed compared to other, older European nations; the area's four hundred years under the yoke of the Ottoman Empire imposed its preferred structure anyway, limiting local individuality. Furthermore, successive governments have sought to undermine any sort of 'Establishment' (and established values) for political gain, thus undermining the stability of any social structure that does not help them achieve and maintain their goals.

Obviously the 'Do you know who I am?' demand is not a phenomenon restricted to Greece, with many less-developed countries having similar versions. The reason why it is so surprising when encountered in Greece, especially in a big city like Athens, is that the country gives a particularly good impression of being civilised, westernised and modern, while at the same time maintaining habits encountered in its eastern neighbours.

Pompous, silly people do, clearly, exist everywhere irrespective of the level of civilisation around them, as the infamous orange person shows. They are usually the newly rich and privileged, demanding from those around them what they see as their due and behaving in a way that they think is how people of serious social standing should behave, unwittingly thus giving themselves away. In Greece, however, it goes way beyond that - almost everyone perceives his status as far more important than what is obvious to the naked eye. This is partly why few Greeks make good waiters, a job perceived as demeaning and often done grudgingly - I may be serving you now because I deign to do this job, but I am at least as good as you if not better. Indeed when the late Andreas Papandreou, socialist Prime Minister in the 1980s and 1990s, wanted to illustrate a level to which Greeks would not sink declared 'we will not become the waiters of Europe' and sabotaged investment in tourism to avoid it. This was a strategic mistake that the country is paying for still, but that is a story for another day.

Back to our little man - and it is, sadly, mainly men who adopt this pose - who is offended by something or someone, feels belittled, needs to impose his perceived status, to show everyone that he is worthy of respect, but no-one pays him the attention he feels he deserves. A deep breath taken, he stretches to his full height and intones: 'do you know who I am?'

He feels better, strong; he's shown the world that he is someone. Alas he doesn't realise that he has just pigeon-holed himself, and not in the way he thinks he has.